know very little about the project.” In the same unemotional tone, she gave him a sketch of her day, ending when Milo had come out of the tent and led her back to the church, telling her that Alex was dead. “It seems very strange that he should be dead,” she said in a puzzled voice.
“I expect it does, ma’am,” said Pilot politely. “Do you have any idea as to who would want to kill him?”
Tessa turned to him wide-eyed. “Why, no. Not if some local person did it. They might perhaps have misunderstood about his work.”
The deputy sensed that he was being invited to pursue the matter. He obliged. “And if it
“I did think that perhaps Mary Clare…,” Tessa murmured, twisting her rings.
“Mary Clare? The graduate assistant?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing to interest you, Sheriff,” said Tessa with a gentle smile. “It’s just that the poor thing had sort of a schoolgirl crush on my husband, as students will often do.”
There had to be more to it than that. Pilot waited.
“And I think she misunderstood my husband’s… encouragement of her work. I’m afraid she became rather silly about it, and he was forced to hurt her feelings. It was all very embarrassing for him.”
Pilot grunted. He had waded through all the flowers in Tessa’s explanation, and had concluded that the professor was fooling around with his assistant. In his book, that made two suspects with good motives: the girlfriend and the wife. “I’ll look into it,” he said noncommittally.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” murmured Tessa, but she sounded pleased.
Pilot decided that at this point Duncan Johnson would interview someone besides the girlfriend. That way he could have a little hearsay to contribute to the conversation. People often said more when they had something to refute. He could have chosen any of the others to question next; the fact that he picked Victor was sheer spite. The sight of him snoring like a hog through a murder investigation made Pilot Barnes long to kick him; he settled for a rude awakening and some less-than-polite questioning.
“I don’t know who killed him,” Victor sulked. “He wasn’t a very nice man.”
“Wasn’t he?” asked Pilot genially.
Victor, detecting a sympathetic listener, told his version of the Peking man incident. In revised form, Victor was now convinced that he had made a slip of the tongue in a technical matter, and that Lerche had chosen to misinterpret his mistake, and to publicly humiliate him for it.
The deputy was puzzled. “What does it matter which pile of bones you saw in the museum?” he asked.
Victor smiled bitterly. “I assure you that anthropologists are perfectly capable of pitching fits over matters even more trivial than that.”
“Well, did he put anybody else’s back up thataway?”
“Not that I recall,” said Victor, implying that he had a mind above such things.
“There’s always his personal life to consider,” said Pilot carefully. “That business about his graduate student.”
“Oh, you were out?”
“Yes. After that dreadful incident with Dr. Lerche, I had the most piercing migraine. The very air seemed to oppress me. Naturally, I went outside for a while in an attempt to lessen the agony. It’s merciful I wasn’t present for that scene between Mrs. Lerche and Mary Clare, because it would have been very bad for my nerves.”
“How do you know there was a scene between them if you weren’t around?” asked Pilot.
“When I came back in-”
“What time was that?”
Victor looked pained. “One doesn’t clock-watch on a dig. Nine-thirty or so, I expect. Well past dark. Anyway, when I came in, there was a strained atmosphere, as if everyone had just been at each other’s throats.”
“What were you doing wandering around in the dark till nine-thirty?” Pilot made the question an expression of friendly interest rather than an accusation.
“It’s obvious that you’ve never had a migraine,” said Victor with dark satisfaction. “Light hurts one’s eyes. I was just walking about in the dark waiting for the pounding to subside. Of course, I would have been better off lying down, but they were not going to turn off the lights in the common room. No one has any concern for my feelings.”
“Did you happen to go up to the cemetery?”
Victor hesitated. “Well… perhaps in that direction,” he admitted. “But I didn’t see anything.”
“How close did you get?”
“I may have just glimpsed the tent light shining through the trees. I didn’t see any movement.”
“Was that when you just started out or just before you came back in?”
“Somewhere in the middle, I guess.”
Pilot Barnes sighed. Any hope of fixing the time of death had better not be pinned on this tomfool witness. He thanked him, and sent for Mary Clare.
Mary Clare did not wait to be questioned. “Have you made an arrest yet?” she demanded.
Pilot Barnes blinked. “You have anybody in mind?”
“There’s some idiot loose in these hills bashing people on the head, buddy, and you’d better find him.”
“You oughtn’t to let it frighten you,” said Pilot soothingly.
“Frighten me? I wish they’d tried to get me instead of Alex! I’d have left ’em laying on the ground!” Her voice softened. “I don’t think Alex was much of a fighter. I wish I’da walked that way tonight.”
“Walked that way? Were you out tonight?”
“I went for a walk. Why?”
Pilot grimaced. “Seems like the whole world was out walking the woods tonight.”
“Oh,” said Mary Clare, suddenly comprehending. “You’re thinking about alibis.”
“Have to.”
“Well, I didn’t kill Alex. Had no reason to.”
“I understand there was a little misunderstanding between the two of you. Something about a schoolgirl crush.”
He expected to get a rise out of her with that phrase, but she recognized the wording as Tessa’s, and only said: “I told you Alex wasn’t much of a fighter.”
Pilot continued with a few routine questions about where Mary Clare was and when, but the emotional outburst he was hoping for didn’t come.
“Will I be able to leave?” Mary Clare asked when he had finished.
“Where were you planning to go?”
“Alex asked me to go and do some research at MacDowell College, and I’d like to follow through on it. This project was important to him.”
Pilot nodded. “That’s within the state. I don’t see why not. Just let us know where you can be reached in case we need you.”
“I’ll be back,” said Mary Clare.
“Adair. A-D-A-I-R,” said Jake.
“And what is your position?”
“I’m an undergrad, which means that I do the pick-and-shovel work in exchange for the experience.”
“Did you get along with Dr. Lerche?”
“Oh, sure. I didn’t have much to do with him, anyway. Mary Clare was the site manager.”
“And where were you tonight?”
“From supper on, I was in the church, trying to read a book.”
“So you didn’t go out in the woods?”
“No. Not until Milo found the body and sent me up there to guard it. I didn’t see or hear anyone around then.”
“I bet you saw and heard a lot at the church, though,” said Pilot slyly. “About the time Mrs. Lerche arrived and met the girlfriend.”
Jake shrugged. “There wasn’t much to it.”
